What can I say about this chapter...I tried to keep it slightly humorous?

Thank you to all my reviewers! I hope this chapter meets your expectations.

Chapter 3: Recognition

Thursday Morning

Sharon thought her morning was going well under the circumstances. Rusty hadn't needed to be pulled out of bed. (He had a tendency to turn his alarm clock off and go back to bed occasionally.) When she reminded him that he had agreed to stop by the station after school, he had only rolled his eyes once before saying that he remembered. Their simple breakfast of cereal had been eaten in a comfortable, if not sleepy, silence before they parted ways for school and work. Traffic on the way to work had been wonderfully uncongested, allowing her to be there a good ten minutes before she usually arrived.

In retrospect, she should have seen that as an omen of the things to come.

Her team was already in the Murder Room going over the case when she walked in. Saying her usual good morning and promising to join them as soon as she put her things away, she continued to her office. Maybe if she'd actually stopped to say good morning, things would have gone differently. Maybe she would have noticed the not-so-subtle way that Mike kept his head down, but watched her out of the corner of his eye. Or the way that Flynn smiled and openly watched her walk. Perhaps she would have noticed that Provenza lowered his crossword puzzle as she walked closer and closer to her door. Or the way Amy didn't smile and greet her warmly, but merely stared down at her desk. And just maybe she'd have noticed how Julio turned away so she wouldn't see his laugh as she walked by him.

Instead, she spoke to them over her shoulder as she made her way to her office, turning towards it fully only when her hand was on the doorknob.

She couldn't say she was surprised at what she saw there. Police officers were known to do their fair share of hazing and teasing. She was actually rather proud of how she'd made her way through her team's hazing efforts years ago. Her first true success, in her team's eyes anyway, being when she took down a suspect-with a beanbag gun—right between his eyes. As she stood staring at her door for a moment, she remembered that commanding officer or not she was not completely untouchable as far as teasing went.

Stuck to her door were several stills from the video of her dancing that had been delivered yesterday. The photos had been enhanced and cropped, and as she studied them for a moment she wished longingly for the body she'd had in her twenties before babies and age had taken their toll.

She stood there looking at them for only a brief moment. Only a few seconds, before she turned the doorknob and walked into her office.

As promised, she put her things away and returned to the Murder Room, purposefully ignoring the pictures. They would have to come down eventually, of course, but for now they weren't hurting anyone.

"Anything new, Lieutenant?" she asked, purposefully sitting on the corner of Provenza's desk facing the Murder Board. She ignored his glare and pointed looks.

It was Mike who answered instead of Provenza. "The autopsy results are back. She'd been sexually assaulted before she was killed, and she was pregnant."

Sharon's head silently snapped towards him at that. Like every member of her team, she had a soft spot when it came to children. She assumed that all people, police officers or not, had that same soft spot. "How far along was she?"

Mike looked through the autopsy report quickly. "Eight weeks."

"What about the husband?"

Provenza answered this time, still glaring at her for sitting on his desk. "He tried to report her missing when she didn't come home Tuesday night, but, of course, since she was an adult and there were no extenuating circumstances…" He trailed off with a sad shrug. "We did get a DNA sample from him and are waiting to hear if he really is the father of our victim's baby."

Sharon nodded her head. "Since she was sexually assaulted, were we able to get any DNA?"

Mike answered again. "Yes, two samples actually. One is a bit older than the other, and Dr. Morales says it's the husband's. We're running the other sample through the database now, but that could take days. It would go faster—"

"If we had something to compare it to, I know," Sharon finished for him. "What about the DVD that was delivered yesterday?"

Flynn decided it was his turn to join the conversation. "Nothing there either. It was obviously transferred from an old cassette tape to a DVD, but it doesn't look professional."

Buzz piped up from his corner of the Murder Room. "It's not hard to copy a cassette to a DVD. Especially with the right equipment. Even Lieutenant Provenza could do it."

There were several badly concealed chuckles at that quip as Provenza mumbled under his breath.

"Any idea on how our killer got that tape, ma'am?" Julio asked with a smirk. He was enjoying this far too much.

She shrugged, having already told them about how she used to, as Rusty put it, 'record herself exercising.' "Not really. I never thought too much about those tapes. I know there aren't many of them. I didn't even keep one."

"The prints on the disk match those at the crime scene," Andy added before his voice became more somber. "Whoever killed this girl sent you that disk, Sharon. That's not a good sign."

"I'm aware of that, yes. But that video was from thirty years ago. Before my children were born. When I was still a rookie on patrol. It's hardly a fresh memory."

"I just got a hit from VICAP," Julio announced. "Apparently, there was a murder like this one fifteen years ago."

"How much like this one?" Provenza asked, as everyone gave Julio their full attention.

"Victim was approximately the same age, a theater dancer, ten weeks pregnant, sexually assaulted before she was killed. She had the same words carved into her back, and the crime scene looks nearly identical." Julio turned his computer screen so she could see the pictures.

She knew the dance that went with those lyrics, too.

Finally, standing up from her place on Provenza's desk, she moved closer to Julio's computer screen, studying the pictures. Specifically the one of the words carved into the woman's back.

Those two words seemed familiar. Like at the crime scene, she forced herself to repress the shudder that wanted badly to travel down her spine.

Julio interrupted her thoughts. "VICAP doesn't mention anything about a disk being delivered showing a room full of dancing women."

"Anything on the dance teacher that gave the girl the disk?" she asked, glaring at Julio.

"His name," Amy replied, "is Ron Hays, according to Cassidy's mother. He owns a dance school, too. Yesterday, he canceled all his classes for the next two weeks. Which is how he got Cassidy to deliver the disk. Her father dropped her off early for practice. She was the first one there before Hays put the note up canceling class. Hay's offered to take her home so she didn't have to wait on her mother to pick her up. He brought her to the police station instead and asked her to play messenger."

"But," Mike added getting up to pin the DMV's picture of their suspect on the board, "Ron Hays doesn't appear to be his real name. The real Ron Hays died when he was three weeks old twenty-five years ago and suddenly appeared in L.A. fifteen years ago."

Sharon took a step towards the board to get a better look at the picture. She studied it carefully before her eyes widened. Spinning around on her heel to inform her team of their suspect's real name, however, was a mistake.

She felt, before she heard, the heel of her shoe snap and only barely managed to catch herself on Provenza's desk. There was initial movement from her team to make sure she was okay, but that soon led to badly concealed chuckles once they'd established that the only thing injured was her pride. And her shoe. Her favorite, most comfortable, pair of heels to be exact.

She bent over to retrieve the broken heel and remove her shoes. She always kept a pair of black flats in her office, so, at least, she wouldn't have to walk around barefoot all day. Straightening, she held her shoes in one hand and the broken heel in the other, and continued where she left off as though she hadn't just fallen off her shoes.

"It might be a good idea to run the name Evan Daniels." She sighed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to change shoes then remove myself from this case."

Thursday Afternoon

For the first time in her life Sharon Raydor was happy to be sent home early.

Granted, she hadn't been sent home early often- there was that one time in middle school- and it had never happened in her professional career, and she hadn't exactly been ordered to go home this time. However, when she went to Assistant Chief Taylor to inform him of why she was excusing herself from the case, he had suggested that she take the rest of the day off and she willing went. In fact, she nearly ran out of the building. Considering how her luck was going, however, she decided that a better course of action would be to walk. Slowly.

And to drive even more carefully than normal. Which wasn't too hard to do considering that traffic was so backed up she never drove more than five or ten feet at a time.

It was a little past one in the afternoon when she finally stepped into her condo. She was about to sigh in relief at finally being home, and having a few hours to herself before Rusty arrived, when she noticed a familiar blonde head peeking at her with wide eyes from over the couch.

"Rusty?" She was instantly concerned at seeing him on her couch watching TV when he should have been at school. "Are you all right? Are you sick? Why didn't you call me?"

She closed the distance between them and stood behind the couch while she placed a hand on his forehead. He didn't feel warm.

"What happened?" she asked, still concerned. She smoothed his hair back down.

Rusty squirmed a bit on the couch, moving away from her towards the armrest. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes told her that whatever he was about to say was going to be a lie.

"I wasn't feeling well, so I came home early." He looked away from her the second the words were out of his mouth.

"Did you go see the school nurse?"

Rusty shook his head.

Sharon considered questioning him further, but he'd obviously had some time to think about this, and she was tired. It had been a long morning for a number of reasons. None of which was Rusty's fault. She wasn't in the mood to let him tell her lie after lie, digging himself deeper and deeper, until he had no choice but to tell her the truth. Besides, if St. Joe's had sent him home early, or if he was absent, they were required to call her. She'd been very clear on that when she'd enrolled him. If they hadn't done that, then she needed to have talk with the principal.

Moving away from the couch, she went to the phone. Picking it up from its stand, she dialed the school's number from memory.

Rusty sat up, his wide eyes following her. "What are doing?"

"Making a phone call."

Rusty rolled his eyes. "Obviously, I can see that, Sharon. Who are you calling?"

She held up a finger to silence him, as someone answered her call. "Yes, I'm Sharon Raydor, I was wondering-"

The person on the other end cut her off mid sentence, and she turned to watch Rusty as the woman spoke.

"…just about to call you. It's been a little crazy here today, and I'm running a little behind. Your son…"

Sharon didn't bother correcting the woman. She never corrected anyone about that mistake these days.

Sharon kept her face impassive as she listened to the woman on the other end of the line. Rusty fidgeted and squirmed under her gaze until he decided something and attempted to watch TV again.

Once the conversation finished, Sharon replaced the receiver on its charger and moved to stand next to him on the couch. She waited for an explanation.

Rusty watched TV, pointedly ignoring her.

"Would you like to tell me your side of the story?"

Rusty shrugged and turned up the volume on the TV.

She took the remote from him and turned off the TV, crossing her arms.

"Hey! I was watching that!"

"Not anymore. Now, would you care to explain what happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"You just heard me on the phone with St. Joe's, Rusty."

"I'm suspended until Monday. Happy?" Rusty snapped at her, and though his tone and words said one thing, his body language said another. Sharon watched him curl up into himself wrapping his arms around his legs while pushing into the couch.

Sharon couldn't make sense of his reactions. He hadn't behaved this way since their first few months together. They'd come a long ways since then, she thought. When she spoke, she kept her tone low and slow, uncrossing her arms to appear less angry. "I would very much like to hear your side of the story, Rusty."

Rusty shrugged.

She waited.

"You already know what happened. What's the point of me telling you again?" Rusty asked, finally.

"So I can hear your version of what happened. Why you thought that doing that was a good idea," she answered honestly, repeating what she said earlier.

Rusty rolled his eyes.

Sharon continued to watch him sadly. She really had thought that by now he trusted her. She thought that having the preliminary part of Stroh's trial over and done with that he'd be able to relax. They could both relax. That he would know he could trust her. Maybe sending him away to stay with Provenza for the whole week before the trial had done more harm then she'd thought.

There was nothing she could do about that now, and looking back (aside from keeping him out of that insane operation to begin with) she wasn't sure what she could have done differently. She sighed and looked away from him for a moment, coming to a decision.

"Go get your laptop and cellphone," she instructed firmly, mentally bracing herself for the explosion.

"What?! Why?!" Rusty demanded, sitting up on the couch, completely outraged at her words.

"Now, please."

Rusty glared at her for a minute and she was reminded of his first week with her when he'd been so very angry and untrusting.

She kept her expression impassive, but unyielding.

He kicked her coffee table as he stood up. And her couch. Then continued storming down the hall to his room. She remained standing in the living room hoping that she was doing the right thing.

It took him ten minutes to come back with the two items she'd requested. In that time, she'd disconnected the cable box and had it sitting on her abused coffee table. When Rusty did return clutching his phone in one hand and his laptop to his chest, she held out her hands.

"You can't take my things from me," Rusty said, glaring.

Sharon replied, the same way she had the first time he said those words to her. The same way she'd replied to her two oldest when they'd said those words to her. "They're not your things. They're my things, and you can only keep them while making mature decisions."

"That's not fair."

"This isn't up for discussion, young man."

He glared at her for a moment longer before depositing the items-with more force than was strictly necessary-into her arms.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, collecting the cable box as well. "You should consider yourself grounded."

"For how long?" Rusty grumbled.

"That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On what you say when you're ready to sit down and talk to me maturely without kicking things and slamming doors."

Rusty opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

"For now, let's say we'll reevaluate the situation Sunday evening, which should give you plenty of time to think about your behavior."

Rusty opened and closed his mouth a few times, but eventually decided that the best course of action would be to walk away. Which he did without kicking, stomping, or slamming his bedroom door. Sharon considered that an improvement. With that thought in mind, she took all of Rusty's favorite electronics to her bedroom.

Tell me all your thoughts on how Sharon handled things with Rusty. Please? I have internet cookies for you...they're the best kind of cookies, you know.